


Silent Rain

by Saronai



Series: Delari Sylvae [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Abusive Parents, Gen, Historical, Kaldorei - Freeform, hyjal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saronai/pseuds/Saronai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lesara is chosen heir for The Order of Mysteries - a group of kaldorei shadow priestesses. Unfortunately, she falls short of expectations; ill-suited for her mother's world of shadows and lost knowledge. When Nordrassil falls, her mother's sanity slips, dragging Lesara deeper in shadow. This quest for new immortality has a price. What sacrifices will the Lady of Mysteries demand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeking a Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I was running this as a blog series and will continue it that way, rather than as chapters. As such, I was calling each scene/chapter an episode. This is a series built on scenes, rather than traditional chapters. Also, I wrote it in a way that my sister, who does not play World of Warcraft, could keep up with the story without getting too lost.
> 
> Finally, I will only go back to fix typos and simple errors (wrong names in the case of accidentally calling Adriala, Navianna (I did that once), lore I got wrong that's easy enough to fix, etc.). If I write myself into a corner on this, I'll try my hardest not to be dull and boring while writing the characters back out of it, but the story won't drastically change and get rewritten before it's done. The first 11 scenes are already written and available elsewhere online.
> 
> If you're brave enough to start it before I've finished, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> All characters belong to me unless they are obvious lore characters (Tyrande, Elune, etc.) or otherwise noted.  
> Final notes: This story takes place shortly before the Battle for Mount Hyjal and the loss of immortality for Night Elves  
>  _Italics indicate thoughts and occasionally foreign words_ (I keep/made up some for flavour, using them when I decide something would be lost in translation, such as switching out _Ashala'eluna_ for "Amen" or "So it be" or something similar)  
>  _*around italics*_ indicates telepathic communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After ritual fasting, Lesara is forced to endure an old and experimental vision-seeking ritual in an attempt to glimpse the future during a time of rising turmoil.

**_Silent Rain  
Episode One:  Seeking a Vision_**

Wispy tendrils of smoke rose and danced from the altar, creating a gossamer web above before blurring into a thin fog near the ceiling.  The burning herbs with their heavy-sweet scent made Lesara's eyes water and she struggled to keep her composure.

A familiar, comforting pressure, like a hug filled her mind.  Her brother.  A surge of emotion pushed at her heart, wanting to cling, but she gathered her will and pushed instead.  Kalshen traveled the Emerald Dream, a realm between sleep and waking.  That she sensed him meant she was on the verge of passing out.  An image of her mother's stern face intruded, the usual pale white glow of her eyes bright enough to swallow her silvered irises.

An unpleasant tickle snaked up her spine and she struggled with its coils tightening around her throat.  She tried swallowing around a dry lump before dutifully bending her head.  Her mother's visage faded.  The uneven sound of her pressured breathing pounded in her ears.  Drums, it was drums.  Lesara's tapered ears twitched back to catch the sound better, her eyes on the weaving smoke in front.  Silence now.

Colors rose from the smoking herbs in a rainbow haze, forming shapes.  She stopped breathing, her eyes darting to pick them out, but they wavered and the room began to follow their dance.  She closed her eyes to fight back the quaver of nausea rising from her stomach.  The water inside sloshed, pushing the nausea farther up her throat and her stomach growled, angry with her recent fasting.

_*Concentrate!*_   Her mother hissed in her thoughts.  Lesara stiffened, rigid, preventing any cringing or whimpering as the too-familiar psychic needle shot through her mind.  _*You're nearly there!*_

Lesara forced herself to breathe in more smoke, fighting a protest in her lungs.  She opened her eyes.  The room continued its quivering snake dance with the tendrils of smoke.  Through it she saw glowing, blue orbs streak toward a canopy of burning trees.  Wisps? One of the orbs stopped and hovered in her field of vision; the vague image of a face within blinked and moved closer.

_*Let go...*_   An urgent whisper.  She felt a warm wave rush in like a summer breeze spreading through her from all sides to her core.  A tingle followed, sometimes sharp, airborne grains of sand on the beach.  She tried opening her eyes, but only roiling blackness greeted her vision.  The sea painted before her, lit by an ethereal moon-kissed glow.  Kalshen turned to smile and beckoned.

"WEAK!"  An ocean wave smacked her down, gasping for breath, before choking on smoke.  Smoke.  Lesara struggled on the soaking floor of the hazy room.  Her mother's stiff and angular form wavered, the bucket in her hands more clear than anything.  Lesara watched a small drop of water fall from its lip to the puddle around her.  She turned her head, eyes following the smoke snakes slithering out the opened door to her right.

"Mother..."  She coughed.  "I saw..."  Lesara struggled against hunger and exhaustion as she pushed herself off the floor.  Kalshen pulled her into sleep.  _Damn him._

The bucket clattered to the floor and her mother rushed to help her up.  "You saw?"  She breathed.

"Wisps..."  She finished, pulling at her memory for more.  Nothing.

"Wisps?"  Ysareline straightened and Lesara nearly slipped back into the floor with her sudden lack of support.  "That's it?"

Lesara hung her head, locking all emotion away.  No emotion.  Tears threatened regardless and she forced herself to remember the last time she cried.  Control.  "Burning trees...."  She bent over the puddle, her knees aching against the hard floor, and pretended her veil of white hair was a shield.  She fixed her gaze on the ends curling in the puddle.  When her voice no longer felt thick she cleared her throat.  "I'm sorry."

A heavy sigh.  "At least you saw something this time.  Get up, go bathe."

She heard her mother's footsteps retreating and pushed away from the floor, sitting with her legs folded under.

Ysareline paused in the door way, polished fingernails tapped the door frame where her right hand rested.  She turned her face to one side without looking over her shoulder.  Her own mane of long white hair pulled back in a sharp pony-tail, contrasted the smooth bone structure of her face and soft lavender skin.  "The Lady of Mysteries demands far more next moon.  Help her up."  She disappeared from the doorway.

Lesara almost started when she felt two sets of hands wrap around either shoulder and under her arms.  " _Ashala'eluna,_ " They both intoned as they started nudging her toward the door.

_Weakness...._

She tried shaking herself free, then shoved them off.  "I can walk for myself."  She straightened and attempted her best march ahead while her legs felt like water.  She refused them even a cursory glance, though a thank you tried escaping.  She gritted her teeth against it and led the way to the enclosed hot spring.


	2. Breaking the Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesara takes a moment for breath and some peaceful reconnection with nature after her recent rigorous fasting and ritual. Meanwhile, more is revealed about her mother's ancestral order of shadow priestesses and the ancestral Ethala'Aman home.

**_Silent Rain  
Episode Two: Breaking the Fast_ **

After every fasting her mother demanded, the flat bread always smelled divine, even if her stomach remained unsatisfied by how slowly she reintroduced food. Any other time flat bread tasted like crunchy nothing, with just as little smell.

Adriala stood guard by her doorway and Lesara studied her thoughtfully, resigned when she dropped her gaze and watched the room with a blank stare, as though unaware of Lesara’s attention. “Where is Lady Ethala’Aman?”

“The Lady retired to her rooms soon after the ritual.” Adriala continued staring forward, her voice as expressionless as her face.

Lesara tilted her head, wondering what training shadow glaives such as Adriala endured. They were named for the new moon’s shadow and the weapon nearly all kaldorei favoured. Always quiet warriors raised, groomed, and trained their whole lives to protect priestesses. She knew they were given over to The Lady from birth. No parents, no friends, no lovers, no relations, no recognizable semblance of personality, just charges. In fact, they occasionally required mind-wipes to prevent enemies from uncovering vital secrets.

Secrets. The order thrived on them. Not even High Priestess Tyrande, leader of the kaldorei people, knew of the order. If she did, she gave no indication. Most priestesses worshipped Elune, the goddess, in her full glory; that beautiful and full white orb set in the sparkling night sky. A time of high activity for the kaldorei; children of the stars.

The Lady of Mysteries demanded more of her priestesses. Time and again her mother said as much. In her kinder moments, Ysareline adopted a motherly persona, one showing regret on Lesara’s rigorous training. Those moments rarely lasted long. Always pursuing knowledge and mysteries, finding the hidden moon goddess where few brave a look. Ysareline was a high priestess among the new moon sect and Lesara, her chosen successor.

Lesara pushed up from the purplish-brown, wooden bench and table, embellished with raised swirls coloured black. She took a soothing drink for her scratchy throat, and crossed to her wardrobe, digging for less intimate clothing than a thin, mageweave sleeping gown.

The Order of Mysteries obeyed the laws, of course, but where others stop, healers of the full moon and judges of the half, the new moon seeks knowledge. The people remain ignorant of much more than they know, despite immortality. Collecting mysteries, obscure knowledge, unveiling the unknown, the business of secrets, all as important as Elune’s other aspects and their purposes. The full moon heals and nourishes, the half balances, the new holds secrets…and dispenses justice.

Lesara shivered and pulled out a simple, brown and green robe with matching pants. Both were made of heavy and thick, woven together plant materials; a local type of moss cultivated for exactly that reason.

“It is nearly dawn, my lady, perhaps you should rest instead?”

Lesara paused, staring at the clothes in her hands. Adriala braved reprisal speaking up. “You have some other orders?”

“Yes, my lady.”

A brief flash of Adriala kneeling for punishment nudged Lesara back to her wardrobe against her desire. If someone saw and reported to Ysareline, Adriala faced punishment. Memories of previous nightmares and restless nights argued back; the herbal garden outside promised a reprieve. The thick too-sweet smell of burning herbs still clung after her cleansing in the hot spring.

Lesara wrinkled her nose and the desire for fresh air won. She began shrugging out of her soft bedclothes, leaving the dyed-purple mageweave puddled around her feet. While the kaldorei built their houses open in front, using natural features, fallen wood, or even carving their homes into the trunks of large trees, the private chambers and studies were frequently closed off. When carved into trees, this was necessary for stability, as well as preventing the tree’s death.

Her grandmother’s workers carved the Ethala’Aman home into such a tree, tunneling upward, with flat chambers; enough for plenty of rooms without making the tree unstable. Druids healed the carvings while builders worked ahead, crafting each room, staircase, and hall more than a millennia ago. They carved each upper room close enough to the trunk for a small, open-air chamber set in the back, blocked only by moss curtains.

Lesara wanted more than a walled balcony tonight. She wanted out in the open sky. No ceiling, no walls on either side of a window room, and she wanted a bit of fresh peacebloom from the garden. She wanted her plants. “Your training requires you protect me where I go, not presume to correct my actions.” She looked over her shoulder as she straightened the new robe over her frame.

Adriala stiffened, her mouth setting in a grim line. She stared at the moss-curtained doorway into the halls and said nothing.

Sympathy and regret pin-cushioned Lesara’s insides. She felt her own deep-set frown and fought a childish temper; an impulse to splinter her mother’s onyx-tipped staff against the altar stone, crumple up a dozen scrolls and then run away from home, take Adriala with her, away from the cold. An image of Tyrande swam in her vision; composed, strict like her mother, but soft, with a presence more like an embrace than hard and unforgiving stone.

 _The Lady of Mysteries is cold and harsh, but our people need her as much as the aspect of full light._ A rehearsed thought, always in her mother’s voice. Lesara believed it, didn’t she? Yes. She forced tension from her fisted hands and rigid posture, breathing out. She turned and faced Adriala. _*I’m sorry, and I hate this, you’re a person too.*_ “I will notify my mother first thing. You won’t be punished.”

Her glaive continued staring straight ahead. “Yes, my lady. I apologize–”

Lesara waved dismissively at the apology and Adriala broke off immediately, taking the gesture as a command. She crossed the room and ducked under the moss door, held parted by Adriala.

In the halls, the occasional window punctuated their descent with small circular holes at shoulder level. Down through the maze of loosely curling, gently declining ramps. Three sets of staircases, each heading toward the core, turning sharply, and then heading back outward, interrupted at regular intervals. The last led to a large, open-faced gathering room for guests and leisure.

Both guards on either side of the ramp out stomped their left leg, snapping their heels together in unison and saluted with fisted hands; left arm across the back, right arm over the chest. They held the pose as Lesara walked past, trailed by Adriala. Lesara kept her eyes ahead, fighting the impulse to acknowledge the two women. She learned long ago that the slightest misstep always ended in a report to Ysareline, and Lesara paid for each one during training. She might pay for this as well, despite never hearing Ysareline’s direct orders. _Better me than Adriala._

She veered left and walked into the closest herb garden and off the path. Morning dew already dampened the grasses under her bare feet. She bit back a content sigh while her posture melted. Distant fear kept her from collapsing on the ground without ceremony and snuggling the wet ground. Instead, she kept walking until she reached the small white flowers curling around their yellowed centers, sleeping in the pre-dawn light.

She pulled a small, but sharp dagger free from her pockets and unsheathed it, then knelt in front of the peacebloom. She silently thanked each section she sliced free, humming a healing hymn of Elune as she brushed her fingertips over the severed ends, willing them soothed and closed.

 _I want to sleep out here in the grass,_ she thought as she tucked the gathered peacebloom into a separate pocket from the resheathed dagger. She snuck a glance over and up at Adriala. The glaive stood stiff and ready, eyes alert for danger. However, her expression seemed more peaceful than before.

The glaives, even the military guards, the sentinels, represented more than protection. They highlighted vulnerability. While the kaldorei, thanks to an old bargain, were immortal, that only prevented death from old age. It also required the druids sacrifice long stretches of life, sleeping in magic stasis while their souls worked as caretakers for Ysera’s realm, The Emerald Dream.

A light rain began falling and Lesara looked skyward, letting it run rivulets along the curves of her face, into her ears and down to the pointed tips. She bent her ears back toward the ground, blocking the rain from falling directly inside, then looked around the grounds and up the large trunk of her ancestral home. Her window overlooked the gardens, Ysareline’s overlooked the ritual grove on the opposite side. No one else in sight. Lesara collapsed backwards, her hair snaking through the grass in several directions.

“My lady?” She heard a panicked shift of metal-studded armor near her feet, but kept her eyes closed.

“I’m fine, Adriala.” Then she remembered Adriala reported directly to Ysareline. “Don’t tell,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...this one's kind of an info dump post of sorts. Same notes as the first one apply.
> 
> **Character List:**
> 
>  _Lesara -_ The main character of Silent Rain. At this point in time, a shadow priestess in training and heir to The Order of Mysteries.  
>  _Kalshen -_ Lesara’s older brother; at this point in time, a druid in the Emerald Dream.  
>  _Ysareline -_ High Priestess within the Order of Mysteries and mother to both Lesara and Kalshen.  
>  _Adriala -_ Lesara’s primary glaive, a type of private sentinel/guard raised and trained as a living weapon.  
>  _Tyrande -_ High priestess of Elune and leader of the kaldorei people (Blizzard lore character)


End file.
